


Take Me There

by ausfil



Category: Westlife
Genre: BDSM, Catharsis, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominance, Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Sexual, Non-Sexual Spanking, Overthinking, Pain, Self Confidence, Spanking, Stress Relief, Submission, Therapeutic spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 11:24:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21475222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausfil/pseuds/ausfil
Summary: After the first writing session, Shane just needs a chance to unwind and someone to tell him that he’s doing well.
Relationships: Mark Feehily/Shane Filan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	Take Me There

**Author's Note:**

> Click [here](https://westlife.lnk.to/SpectrumTW) to listen to Westlife's 11th studio album, Spectrum!

Mark hadn’t known what was wrong. Shane had been quiet the entire car ride home, and Shane was barely ever quiet. He’d asked if he was okay in the car. Shane had said yes – a flat tone that sank Mark’s heart, eyes that didn’t look at him properly.

“Do you want something to eat?” Mark asks when they walk into their house.

Shane shakes his head and tosses his bag aside, his coat stringing off his arms like noodles, those lips that Mark loved so much downturned, that try to smile but fail when their eyes meet which sinks Mark’s heart even more. Before another second of this goes on, Mark drags Shane into a hug that he deflates into almost immediately, as if he’d been waiting for this all day.

“What’s wrong, love?” Mark whispers, pressing a gentle kiss into dark brown hair.

Shane’s silent for a moment. He brings his arms around Mark’s waist and rests his forehead on a strong shoulder that would always be there for him.

“I just feel like…” Shane sighs, then melts in his arms even more. “How do you think it went today?”

Shane feels even smaller than he is. A head shorter than Mark himself, skinny arms and small shoulders that fit right in Mark’s embrace, that could snap if Mark hugs too hard. But he wants to. And he does. Because the utter lack of energy in the body against his makes him want to cry.

“I think it went really well, actually,” Mark answers.

And it had. The first writing session for the new album, being involved in the writing process had been something they pushed for, something that needed to happen, that needed to be different this time around. They knew they could write. Had albums to prove it. And they were going to kill this.

But Shane had looked anxious going into the studio this morning. He hadn’t seen Shane this anxious in a while. Excited with nerves, of course, but not anxious to do something Mark knew he loved doing. Mark remembers when Shane had written for his solo albums, running out the door with a skip in his step, surging with ideas and the notes in his phone ready to go with heartfelt lyrics from the absolute core of his heart.

Mark knew they were all about him. All of them. And they were all brilliant too.

And he thought today would be the same. Instead, Shane’s broken in his arms.

“I loved the lyric you came up with today.” Mark croons and kisses Shane’s hair again. “I mean, ‘there’s a happy place, won’t you take me there’? It’s beautiful.”

Shane chuckles back a little, and that sounds nice, despite it all. “You’re my happy place.”

“And you’re mine.” Shane snuggles up to him, hair tickling his chin, and Mark feels the worried grimace on his face melt into a soft smile. “I’m really proud of you. You did really well today.”

“It’s just…” Shane sighs. Mark feels the arms around his waist tighten. “It’s a lot. This has to be good, you know? It _has _to be. But I…” Shane trails off with a shrug, unspoken words and cluttered thoughts trapped behind the rim of his lip, afraid to come out yet excruciating to stay inside.

“It will be, love. I know it will.”

“But what if-“

“No what ifs.” Mark interrupts. Shane quietens immediately. “Once you start, there’s never going to be an end to it. Just stop thinking about it.”

“I _can’t_, I…” Shane’s voice breaks, right before he lets out a frustrated grunt and shifts to dig his face into the crook of Mark’s neck.

This rhythm of breath, Mark’s familiar with it. That uneven hill of sharp inhales and exhales, small grunts and holding of oxygen that Shane rides when he’s trying to hold back tears. When he just needs a release but doesn’t know what to do. When he feels lost.

Mark gives him a minute and rubs his back trying to soothe him through it all.

“Help me,” Shane whispers after long seconds of silence. “Take my mind of it. Please. Just… anything.”

The hand that Mark left on Shane’s back snakes down to rub his ass. He feels Shane freeze for a minute, then arch into the touch a little bit.

“Do you want a spanking?”

“But… but here?” Shane lifts his head a little bit and looks around. They’re right behind the front door. If by any chance, a neighbour hears, he would-

The sudden slap strikes past his skin, past his bone, past any freckle of matter inside him. The sound echoes through the entire house and Shane doesn’t understand how Mark’s hand hurts this much through jeans. It almost feels like the crack of a belt. He lets out a yell and jerks forward into Mark’s body as shock trembles up his spine.

“Marky…” he whines, but falls right back into their hug. He lays his head down on that shoulder again, closing his eyes as Mark rubs his bottom.

“You’re going to take whatever I give you. You’ll be good for me.”

“I will,” Shane answers, and his voice sounds better already, distanced from the studio with Mark’s lower tone.

And it starts with a force that Shane didn’t expect. There’s usually a build up. Mark usually gives him a few lighter pats, gradually hitting harder and harder until he loses himself. But the strength in that palm already makes him lose a part of himself, and god, he needs this.

Being reduced to something so small and inferior, to something that could break in the palm of someone else’s hand, to nothing, yet still feeling so loved and supported like he is everything.

He craves to be Mark’s nothing and everything. And he already is.

Mark doesn’t say anything for a while. Just spanks and holds Shane in his place so he doesn’t fall. Shane’s already whimpering. When those whimpers get a little louder, Mark stops.

“What are you really worried about?” He asks.

Shane hesitates, a heavy silence choking him, before he answers. “That… I won’t have much to offer.”

Mark hits him harder. The hardest yet.

Then again. And again until all he can hear are Shane’s pained grunts instead of words like that.

Shane had tried to keep it together all day today, but Mark could see through it. Of course he could. He’d known him for thirty years - he knew everything. Through the confident layer, just a vulnerable boy who wants to do the best he can, who’s passionate and really really cares, a soft soul that just needs a hug and kind words to bring him back on his feet.

“Why won’t you have much to offer?”

“I don’t know.“ _Slap_. Shane’s breath hitches.

“Tell me,” Mark demands. Shane remains quiet. He gives him a few seconds, then delivers five quick blows. Shane squirms in his arms, and Mark marvels at how beautifully this boy suffers. How beautiful he always is submitting, giving up control and burning down to his element. “I said tell me.”

“Because I’m not enough.” The words blurt out too quickly, a shameful blush inking Shane’s cheeks as he tries to hide them in this embrace.

“Did you just say you’re not enough?”

“I… Yeah.” Shane voice starts to shake, a soft sob being trapped in his throat.

Mark sighs. “You _are _enough. More than anything in the world.”

Shane doesn’t say anything.

The hits echo quickly.

Five, ten, fifteen in rapid succession that Mark can feel Shane’s emotions in in every flinch. The frustration rooted in every aching moan. The complex mixture that makes Mark want to hit him harder, but also want to hug him harder, this small body in his arms trembling through every strike of release, through every heavy breath echoing through his ears, trying so hard to stand.

But Shane’s still calculating. Mark can tell.

Predicting when the next hit will come. Anticipating a rhythm. Counting the hits. He’s still using too much of his brain that Mark wants to silence. He wants to bring Shane to a place where all he can think about is the pain blooming on his cheek, taking whatever Mark gives him, the love exploding in the small space left between them.

A happy place.

Mark waits an extra beat before he hits down on his thigh this time, and Shane gasps, surprised.

“_Fuck_, Mark…” Shane’s knees feel weak, like he could collapse the moment Mark lets go of him, but he stands. He still stands for Mark. He tries for Mark. He breathes for Mark.

The irregular slaps don’t leave him any room for speculation, and Shane thinks he might go crazy soon. He loves it.

“It hurts,” he murmurs in Mark’s neck.

“I know,” Mark kisses his hair again, right before hitting him. “You’re being so good for me, my love. You’re always so good.”

Shane nods against his skin, and Mark hears that rhythm of breath again. The one where he knows Shane’s trying to hold back his tears. Mark doesn’t stop spanking until Shane starts crying, starts trembling through tears that escape and ease an inch of his heart with every droplet.

“I’m proud of you,” Mark lilts, rubbing Shane’s ass that’s radiating so much heat.

Shane thinks even the scrape of air could make his skin sting, but he doesn’t want Mark’s hand to move away. Ever. He tightens his arms around him and feels comfort flood through his chest. And when Mark starts hitting him again, he feels a little more at ease every time.

Through the pain that breaks him, through the words that repair him.

“I’m really proud of you,” Mark whispers again. He takes a break and settles his aching hand on the small of Shane’s back, pulling him in closer. “You did really well today, which is nothing new. You’ve been doing well for twenty years.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Shane sniffles in Mark’s chest, and it makes him chuckle. Shane’s voice sounds more levelled, the hand clutching onto his back no longer trembling. Mark really is proud. He pulls back from the hug for the first time this entire session and caresses Shane’s jaw, tilts it up slightly. “Darling, look at me.”

Shane hesitates for a few seconds, then those wet eyes slowly flicker up to meet his. Mark smiles into them.

“You really are enough. And I’m not just saying that to make you feel better. You’re the best thing to have ever happened to me,” Mark takes a step forward and presses a kiss against those soft pink lips. He feels them curve against his flesh then pulls away to see that smile. Mark doesn’t think he could ever get enough of that smile. “And you’re going to do even better in the studio tomorrow. I can feel it. You’re just that fuckin’ good.”

Shane lets out a laugh, then wipes his damp face with his sleeve. “That helped. Thank you.”

Shane’s smile feels more relaxed.

Maybe it’s more fitting to say that the Sun had risen on his face, overcoming night and twilight, stretching into a new day with a firm reminder on his bottom and with Mark’s love that would always be there in the centre of his being, feeding him strength.

And with Mark’s hand that will always blow confidence in him, remind him that he can do this. He’s doing well. He’s enough.

More than enough.

“Thank you,” Shane whispers again, nuzzling in the red palm on his cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> Click [here](https://westlife.lnk.to/SpectrumTW) to listen to Westlife's 11th studio album, Spectrum!


End file.
